


Big Insecurities

by pennywritesthings (orphan_account)



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Angst, Bullying, Depression, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Self Confidence Issues, Self-Hatred
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-01
Updated: 2017-02-01
Packaged: 2018-09-21 08:18:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9539444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/pennywritesthings
Summary: Being overweight is hard, especially when your best friend and crush is practically a fucking bodybuilder.Tumblr Anon said: Can I please request a Blaine/Overweight Reader where they’ve been good friends for a while and Blaine asks her out but she can’t fathom why someone who looks like him would want to go out with someone like her. She confesses these feelings to someone (maybe Barbara) and how it reminds her of some bad memories from high school, they comfort the reader and then discuss the situation with Blaine who reassures the reader that he genuinely wants to go out with her





	

**Author's Note:**

> Guys, strap in. This one’s gonna be really (no pun intended) heavy. Without going into too much detail, I’m overweight and I’m really, really fucking insecure about it. I have a very hard time with loving myself and thinking that anyone could possibly ever love me, so this is going to be me letting out a lot of my own personal feelings. Thank you to the anon who requested this, it’s really helpful in letting me get some things off my chest.

A lot of people would describe you as lucky. After all, you had lots of good friends that may as well have been your family for as close to you as they were, and they were also your coworkers at your dream job. You were living in a nice apartment that had a rent that didn’t require you to live off of a pathetic budget or get a roommate, and it was relatively close to your work. Your job had presented you opportunities to be apart of something bigger than you could have ever dreamed, and also let you travel often.

Life should have been good for you. But it wasn’t. Life was hard for you. Because your job had you on camera more often than not, had you in the public eye a lot. That wouldn’t have been too bad, considering when you were in one of your better, happier moods you were more of a people person and welcomed the camera, but considering you had been diagnosed with major depressive disorder and anxiety disorder when you were 16 after going untreated for ten years, your bad days often outnumbered the good.

Sure, there were pills you had now that were supposed to help you, but sometimes you just didn’t take them. You never had a reason for not taking them, but nobody knew or cared to know, so nobody could bother you about them. You knew that you could very easily have a healthy support system in your friends and coworkers at Rooster Teeth, but you didn’t like the idea of bringing up your problems to them, so you stayed silent and faked a smile.

That was easy for you. Faking happiness. You did that often, sometimes without even thinking twice about it. You supposed that it was the byproduct of having to do it for so long without anyone calling you out on your shit. However, there was one thing about you that no matter how hard you tried, you just couldn’t fake. You couldn’t fake being okay with your weight.

You hated yourself. Every single inch of you. Every roll, every stretch mark, and every single bit of flab that seemed to be all over your body. You hated how if you didn’t hold your head perfectly straight it looked like you had a double chin. You hated how thick your arms were. You hated your stomach most of all. You were constantly aware of how fucking disgusting it was, how horrible it made you feel. Even in your happiest moments, you would remember, and you would want nothing more than to just get rid of it.

You couldn’t even begin to count how many times you had cried so hard that you passed out over your fucking weight. You felt so ugly and so fucking unloveable in those moments. You wondered why you had even been hired at Rooster Teeth. Before working there, you had made an offhanded remark to one of your friends that there was no one unattractive person who worked at the damn company. You had seen enough comments from fans to make you feel like you shouldn’t have a job at Rooster Teeth by your looks alone.

But even if you hadn’t… Words like the ones you saw online every day weren’t new to you. You had heard it everywhere, your whole life. In the falsely caring voice of your mother who suggested that maybe you need to eat less and not wear certain clothes. In the harsh jeers from your schoolmates who never seemed to leave you alone. In the joking words of a few friends, one of which who had told you that if they sold people by the dollar per weight, you’d be worth a million dollars. In the disapproving eyes who followed you every time you went to eat something. There were a few low points in your life when you simply didn’t eat for a few days, except just the bare minimum to survive.

Your only escape, your only happiness and your only hope to ignore your weight even for a few minutes was being with your friends. No cameras, no scripts, just friends hanging out. None of them had ever even looked twice poorly at you, even those who had worked hard on their physique to prevent themselves from looking at someone like you. In fact, people like Blaine and Jon and Aaron and Meg, people who worked out daily and looked amazing for it, were some of your closest friends. They had never breathed a negative word to you, ever.

Blaine especially. Blaine was probably your closest friend at Rooster Teeth. Despite having such a douchebag persona on camera, Blaine was the nicest person who could ever exist. Sure, he was sometimes excessively nerdy, and yes, a lot of the times he said things without thinking but he would apologize profusely afterwards and look so guilty that you had to hug him for ten minutes straight to reassure him things were going to be okay. He had, on a regular basis, despite your vehement disapproval (but secret thanks), fought back against your particular batch of haters, and even gotten a few other members of RT to do the same.

Blaine was your best friend, your confidant, your hero. Most disastrously, he was someone you had a crush on. Not one of your stupid little high school crushes, no. Those were often shallow due to the fact you knew each and every single one of them wouldn’t ever give you the time of the day. You admired them for their looks, mostly. But Blaine, while none could deny that he was incredibly attractive, was more than that to you. He was incredibly smart (all evidence to the contrary), very funny, a diligent, hard worker, and the best, most loyal friend anyone could ever ask for. Sometimes, you hated it.

You hated that someone like him, someone who was fit and healthy and attractive, was such good friends with you, who was the exact opposite. There were quite a few times when you had canceled plans last minute with him because you were bursting into uncontrollable tears over the fact. Not that you’d ever tell him, of course. You had so many bullshit excuses that it wasn’t even funny anymore. Your sister called you in a crisis. You had forgotten about a bill you needed to pay all across town. You had previous plans with an old friend. Stupid, stupid lies like that.

But today, you weren’t going to let that happen. You were going to eat a lunch you made for both yourself and Blaine last night with the man in question in the kitchen, and you were going to have a good time, damn it. You were so determined.

And, at first, it seemed like everything was going to be great. It was just you and Blaine for a bit, chatting and eating slowly, just enjoying each other’s presence. A few other people would pop up and say hello for a bit, but for the most part, you and Blaine were simply catching up. It was really nice. Hell, you weren’t even worried when Blaine set his fork down when he wasn’t done eating and cleared his throat awkwardly. You simply raised an eyebrow and took another bite before setting your fork down and folding your arms over the table.

“You got something to say, Gibson?” You asked casually, noting his red face with interest.

“Well, uh, you said you didn’t have any plans tonight, right?” He asked, looking anywhere but you briefly before fixing his eyes on you.

“I mean, other than sitting at home and playing some Skyrim then sit on my ass and scroll through tumblr for probably three hours straight, no, I don’t.” You said amusedly, picking up your fork again and eating your lunch again.

“Right,” Blaine laughed. Except it didn’t sound quite right. It wasn’t fake, but it was almost… nervous. You narrowed your eyes, suspicious now. “I was thinking, maybe, you can come over and play that Star Wars drinking game we were talking about a few weeks ago? I mean, neither of us technically have to come in tomorrow since we’re both working on that short and we finished our segment, and then it’s the weekend, so we can get drunk. And, uh, maybe you can spend the night or something? So that we don’t have to worry about sobering up too bad?”

There was definitely something going on. Blaine was never this nervous about asking you over to watch movies and get drunk. That was such a common occurrence that most of the time, the only notice he’d give you was a five minute warning over text saying he was coming over with a few bottles. It wasn’t uncommon for one of you to stay the night at the other’s, either. Especially when Uber and Lyft left Austin. The word vomit he was spewing definitely didn’t match the simplicity of the question he was asking.

“Of course, dude. I figured that was probably gonna happen either today or tomorrow anyway.” You responded slowly, eyeing Blaine carefully now. “What’s the big deal?”

Now Blaine’s cheeks were redder than a fire hydrant. He began nervously running his fingers through his short hair, and you could hear his foot tapping anxious beats on the floor. “I kind of, uh. I sort of wanted to know if this could maybe be something a little different, this time? Maybe, instead of two friends hanging out, it can be a date?”

You froze. You honest to god couldn’t feel your heart beating or the world around you anymore. Blaine wanted to go on a date with you. Granted, it was the same as any normal hangout between the two of you, but he wanted it to be a date. He was interested in you. Blaine was interested in you. Blaine was interested in you. Blaine was interested in you. You, fat, ugly, unfunny, untalented you. This… this had to be a joke. There was no goddamn way. He had even told you, and most of the fanbase over a Periscope, that you were just his best friend and nothing more after a nosy fan had brought it up. You felt the tears well up in your eyes hotly, and you worked hard to look at Blaine, to show him just how pissed and hurt you were.

Back in the beginning days of your friendship with Blaine, the two of you got shitfaced at some party Rooster Teeth was throwing. You couldn’t even remember what it was for, but it was the first time you and Blaine had talked about something that wasn’t shallow and polite conversation. You confessed to him that you hadn’t really had many relationships, just one real one but a few things here and there, but there was one thing that had sort of stopped you from getting in relationships. You were a senior in high school, and the majority of the friends you had either graduated the year before or simply didn’t talk to you anymore. You spent most of your days alone, and truthfully, it didn’t bother you that much.

One day, the star quarterback of the school’s football team approached you after class, all sweet smiles and kind words about how he felt silly, but he had always wanted to talk to you. You had captivated him, he had said, and he wanted to know more about you. And you fell for it. You actually thought he wanted you. He asked you to prom. You said yes. You were so excited, you had spent ages shopping for the perfect dress, spent hours experimenting with your hair and makeup until you found the perfect combo. When the knock on your door came, he and his friends were all there, wearing casual clothes. They threw eggs at you and took pictures. You asked the quarterback in tears why he would do this to you, and his only response was to throw more eggs and say, “as if anyone would want to go out with a fat bitch like you.”

That stuck with you. Those words never, ever left you. Yeah, you knew that kids could be cruel, teenage boys especially, but you never got an apology, even several years later. When you told Blaine about it, he was furious. He interrogated you on the names of the people, wanted to know how he could find them, especially that asshole quarterback. You didn’t tell him any information, but you did mention how sweet it was that he was that angry over something that happened so long ago. He looked almost appalled that you would suggest that he wouldn’t be, and immediately insisted that no real, good man would ever do that to anyone, especially, he had said, to anyone like you. He never did elaborate on what he meant by that.

But now here he was, pulling the same shit that that quarterback did. Part of you couldn’t believe it. Blaine would never do something like that to you, but apparently… apparently he would.

“Who put you up to this?” You demanded, standing up and pointing an accusing finger at Blaine with the tears stinging your eyes. “Who told you?”

You had only told a few people about your crush on Blaine. Only Barbara, Lindsay (by extension, Aaron and Michael and Gavin), and Burnie knew. You hadn’t even told any of them, they all confronted you about it. Babs and Lindsay like excited sisters who wanted nothing more than to set the two of you up, and Burnie because he caught you crying and demanded to know if Blaine had said something that hurt you, then went on to explain that he didn’t care if the two of you had feelings for each other, he’d punch Blaine if he hurt you. You shook your head, denying both claims, but Burnie had only pulled you into a fatherly hug and let you cry.

“No, nobody put me up to anything, I really-” Blaine tried to speak but you cut him off with a disbelieving scoff. You had to hand it to him, he was a skilled actor. He looked genuinely upset that you would insinuate he was the bad guy. But you knew better.

“You know what, Blaine? I don’t care. This isn’t going to happen to me again. No fucking way.” You shook your head, stepping away from the table as Blaine tried to approach you. “No. I didn’t expect this shit from you, Gibson. Maybe I should have. Maybe I’m just that fucking stupid.”

You turned your back on him, not letting him know that you cared that he was calling your name behind you, not once hesitating in walking out of the building to the parking lot. Before you could make it outside, however, you were stopped by Barbara, who literally had to walk in front of you to get her to stop walking away from her.

“Woah, hey, what’s wrong?” Barbara asked immediately upon seeing the tears streaming down your face, placing two hands on your shoulders and leading you back to your office. You were too weak to fight back, too tired to tell her that you just wanted to go home and be alone. You supposed that now that you didn’t have Blaine, Babs was your best friend now. She was easily the closest to you aside from him.

“Alright, sweetie. What happened? Why are you and Blaine both in tears?”

You scoffed again, wiping your tears away and sitting with her on the couch in your office. “I don’t know why he’s crying. That asshole should be celebrating.”

Barbara’s eyebrows crinkled together in confusion. “What do you mean?”

You took a deep breath, trying to calm down and stop crying, but you simply couldn’t. You allowed yourself to completely break down, sobbing and crying those ugly tears that made snot leak from your nose and drool from your mouth, the kind that sounded like you were an 80 year old chain smoker. You hated dumping this all on Barbara, but better her than anyone else. All she did was pull you into her arms and stroke your hair comfortingly, letting you cry on her, reminding you to breathe every few seconds.

Eventually, you were shakily drawing in fairly regular breaths, and sat up. You side glanced Barbara, and was thankful to see her eyes held no laughing mirth, that she seemed upset that you were upset. You were thankful that you had her. She didn’t say a word, but she didn’t have to. You quietly explained the situation, looking anywhere but her. Your chest hurt from all the crying and it didn’t help that the situation was as fresh as it was.

“I mean… Clearly you aren’t, but shouldn’t you be excited? Blaine asked you out, girl! Why didn’t you say yes? You’re practically in love with the man.” Barbara asked.

You shook your head. “He wasn’t really asking me out. I wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of me saying yes. Better to nip the whole thing in the bud, right?”

“I’m still confused. What do you mean he wasn’t really asking you out? That sounded pretty real to me.”

You winced, not wanting to explain your childhood traumas, but you went and did it anyway. You told her all about the high school quarterback and his dumbass friends who broke you heart. You watched the tears roll down Barbara’s face as you recounted the tale, but by the time you were finished, she, like Blaine did before her, looked more angry than anything.

“That’s bullshit. Those dumb fucking football players, too, but this whole situation now. You and I both know that Blaine isn’t like that at all. Did you see his face when he accidentally insulted Jon on that one episode of On The Spot? He wouldn’t be able to hurt people like that if he tried, least of all you. This poor boy literally talks about you like you’re god’s gift to earth.” Barbara ranted, standing up and pacing your office. “If you don’t go over to that boy and apologize, I’m going to be pissed.”

You blinked. That certainly wasn’t the reaction you expected. You knew, logically, Babs made sense. Blaine wasn’t the douchey football players from high school. Blaine was too good for that. But still… Him fucking with you made more sense than him actually being interested in you. You shook your head, opening your mouth to protest to Barbara, but she simply held up her index finger to get you to stop talking. And then she fucking opened her mouth and yelled for Blaine to get into your office.

“Barbara!” You hissed, getting up and getting ready to maybe slap her, but Blaine stepped into your office looking, admittedly, very worse for wear.

“Settle this shit out. I’m blocking your office door with heavy shit and won’t move it until one of you texts me a picture of you two making out.” Barbara threatened, exiting your office and closing the door. Sure enough, you heard the sounds of things scraping against the floor before they hit your door with a thud. You took a deep breath and looked up at Blaine.

God, it hurt to see him this upset. His eyes were rimmed in red and his usually perfect skin was red and splotchy. Instead of looking as if he could take over the world, like he usually did, he looked like he had all of his strength zapped out of him. You swore you could see his fingers tremble at his sides.

“It wasn’t… I wasn’t making a joke. Nobody put me up to it. I really do like you, more than a friend.” Blaine said quietly, looking down at his feet. “And I heard you talking with Barbara. She’s right. I’m not those assholes from high school. I really care about you.”

“I know.” You responded quietly, stepping closer to Blaine and grabbing his hand like you had done a thousand times. He looked over at your linked hands, and gently squeezed. “It’s just… hard for me. That somebody like you would want to be with someone like me.”

Blaine pulled you into his arms, squeezing you tightly now. You pretended not to notice that you felt a few tears land on top of your head, and he didn’t say anything about the tears that were staining his shirt. “I think you’re the most beautiful woman in the world. I don’t give a shit that you don’t like your size, because I like you. Hell, I love you. Your weight doesn’t matter to you, because it doesn’t define you as a person, just like my muscles don’t define me. I’m not as shallow as the world may think I am.”

“I know you’re not.” You mumbled. “And I was a stupid bitch for thinking you were, even if it was only for a little bit. I love you too, Blaine. And it would be my pleasure to drink and watch Star Wars with you as a date.”

You felt Blaine let out a shaky breath and a few more teardrops on your head, so you did the only thing you knew you could do to reassure him. Slowly, you pulled out of his arms and pressed your lips against his, not moving, only putting the barest amount of pressure on him. He leaned forward, turning the brush of your lips into an actual kiss, and you swore you felt fireworks exploding at the feeling. Your hands went up to toy with his hair as the two of you enjoyed the moment to it’s fullest, smiling against each other’s lips.

“I’m sorry.” You spoke against him before pulling away only enough so you could look into his eyes and he into yours. “I’m sorry I assumed such horrible things about you. I should have known better. I do know better.”

“It’s okay. I forgive you.” Blaine mumbled with a huge grin, leaning forward and capturing your lips again.

You weren’t the biggest fan of cliches. However, just this once, for this one situation, you would say with a grin, that the two of you lived happily ever after.


End file.
